The Edge of Desire
by rainypromise
Summary: Set after Doomsday and into Season Nine. How Chloe and Oliver found each other and tried to figure out what they were to each other. Each chapter with a song attached.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **THE EDGE OF DESIRE**  
Fandom: **Smallville-Chloe&Oliver**  
Timing: **Set after Doomsday, going over season 9**  
Rating: **R/M**  
Disc: **If I owned Smallville, it would be called the Chlollie Show**

**A/N: Yes, I've entered the Chlollie zone.**

Betareader: **platysseus**

**The song featured in this fic: (in order)  
**

**Brand New-Daisy**

**Marie Mena-All This Time**

**Thirteen Senses-The Salt Wound Routine**

**The Damnwells-I Will Keep the Bad Things from You**

**Greg Laswell-And Then You**

**Anjulie-The Heat**

**The Edge of Desire**

part one

**_I'm a moon that never shows its face. I'm a mouth that doesn't smile_**

**_I'm a word that no one ever wants to say..._**

When Jimmy died, it was like everything he had ever stood for crumbled before his very eyes. It was unexpected to say the least; it wasn't supposed to happen. Jimmy was supposed to be safe. Davis was supposed to be harmless; they had separated him from the monster, hadn't they?

And therein lay the rub.

It was stupid of him to believe that just because Davis was purely human then, that that meant he was all that was good and kind. He of all people; he who was fully human, who had darkness inside of him, should've known better.

He could blame Chloe for being so stupid, so naïve—he expected better from her. What was she thinking?

He could blame Clark for always, _always_ trying to do the right thing, for not understanding that for people like them, more often than not, doing the right thing was not an option. That for people like them, they have to sacrifice their souls and do every dirty deed that needs to be done in order for other people—people they have the responsibility to protect—to have the chance, the opportunity, the _choice_ to do the right thing.

He knocked back a shot of whiskey as he realized that it was his own damn fault, he—and Chloe—had enabled Clark, had killed and lied and snuck around to protect Clark's pure, self-righteous ass.

He could blame everyone he knew really for Jimmy's death. He could blame the whole damn world if he wanted but he knew Jimmy wouldn't be dead if he hadn't recruited him, if he hadn't asked him to sneak into Tess's office. He should've known that Jimmy would have run off to where Chloe was. He should've known that Jimmy wouldn't have been able to stay put and twiddle his thumb when the woman he loved was in danger.

He concentrated so much on dealing with the monster that he had forgotten about the human, and he out of all the others should've known how dangerous humans were. After all, he was the only full human in the League, and he out of all of them had brushed more than once with the darkness that everybody had inside them.

Every one of them had contributed to Jimmy's death, but he was the flashpoint. He was the trigger. He was the hand that had launched Jimmy into a situation that he had no business being in.

He was to blame...and he didn't know if he could live with that.

**_You self destructive little girl, pick yourself up don't blame the world_**

Chloe's fingers were rubbed raw, her back burned, her knees and eyes and even hair hurt. She had spent hours, hours cleaning the blood—she couldn't think of it as Jimmy's—from the floor. The smell of bleach singed her nostrils and she told herself that was why her eyes were wet.

The room was silent except for the sound of her scrubbing and sometimes she swore she could hear the sound of her tears splashing against the floor.

The Watchtower—she had gotten used to calling it that and had even laughed as she reminisced about the significance of that word to her—was still empty, she hadn't gotten around to filling it up yet.

Clark—she bit off a sob at the sound of his name in her head—told her to get rid of it but she couldn't, she refused to. Chloe Sullivan didn't run away from bad memories and it wasn't all bad, really.

She chose to remember this place as Jimmy's gift to her, something solid and strong as a reminder of his love for her, of how well he knew her.

And every time she sat by the window and marveled at the scenery outside, it was as if he was sitting right beside her. Jimmy had wanted this for her so here she would stay.

Clark was nowhere to be found, Lois was still missing, the League was scattered all over the globe and Ollie…Ollie had jumped into the guilt train: destination nowhere.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she _could_ do because what was a sidekick without a hero?

All she could do was wait and be ready when they snapped out of it.

Chloe sighed, rubbed her eyes tiredly, picked up the brush and scrubbed.

**_I'm all out of sync; I cover my cuts and hope they are fixed before I get hurt again_**

Oliver couldn't help wanting to smack himself over the head. Fortunately, someone else did it for him — with a closed fist. Oliver shook his head to clear it, and he just managed to dodge the next fist flying up to meet his face by good reflex alone. The roar of the crowd around him pounded inside his head, as did the rattling sound of the cage that trapped him and his opponent. He kneed the overly muscled man in front of him and dug his fists into his ribs; there was a satisfied smile on his face when he heard a sharp crack.

Usually, he was good at taking a beating and he often lost, but right now he felt _mean_. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and held his opponent's neck in a hold, and pummeled the guy's ribs until he could feel the bones give. He ignored the guy's scream of pain and delivered a sharp axe kick to the back of his neck.

He fell face-first onto the mat and didn't move.

Oliver could hear the tense silence around him even through the brutal drum of his heartbeat. He shuffled across the ring, pushed open the door, and left the arena without so much as a glance.

He was bored with this scene. Surely there were more exciting ways to kill himself?

**_I will keep the bad things from you_**

Green Arrow landed softly just outside Watchtower's window.

It had been a week since the whole Roulette fiasco happened and he was still amazed at the intricacy of Chloe's plans. On and off he wondered why she had even bothered.

The only answer he could come up with was because she was Chloe Sullivan; and Chloe Sullivan wouldn't—couldn't—leave a man behind.

He thought of all the things she had gone through to protect Clark; facing off the two nastiest father and son tag team billionaire evil masterminds, not to mention the meteor freaks and whatever the hell she had to go against for the safety of her friends.

Evidently, she also considered _him_ a friend and not just another lost cause.

It was…staggering; the lengths she went to bring him back. He had always had different expectations for Chloe than he had for the other league members, mostly because he understood her more than most. He understood her protective streak, her cunningness, and her slightly bent morals because they mirrored his own.

What he didn't know was that she knew and understood him the way other people didn't.

Clark understood his need for justice. Lois understood his thirst for family, his vulnerabilities as a man. Yet Chloe understood each and every facet of himself; the man, the hero, and the darkness within. She not only understood it, she accepted it, acknowledged it.

If she hadn't, she wouldn't have been able to drag him back from the hell he was in. He could still remember how she had looked, sitting across from him at the coffee place. He remembered the utter conviction in her voice as she spoke to him.

**_You're a fighter, Oliver. You fought for yourself and for a second chance._**

**_Even with your face in the gutter, you still had the hero in your heart._**

Her words kept repeating inside his head and he couldn't help the swell of gratitude that erupted inside his chest every time he saw the little blonde. Of course, she also said that she didn't trust him all that much and he knew he had to earn back her trust; he _wanted_ to earnback her trust and it would be a cold day in hell before he gave up on earning it.

He knew how lucky he was, how close to the edge he'd been before Chloe pulled him back using all the tricks that she had. And then some.

Earning back her trust had become his personal mission especially since he saw her own shade of darkness swirling around inside Chloe's sharp green eyes.

He thought _he_ did that, they all did that. They had all left her when she needed them the most and they were all on her shit list even if she hadn't admitted it. They had abandoned her and their absence marked her; it had broken her somehow in ways that even she didn't understand.

But even so, here she was, back behind her computer, monitoring information, keeping them safe and secure, and aware of any situation that would help them out in their quest for justice.

Oliver watched Chloe drag herself back to her chair with a cup of coffee in one hand while the other rubbed her weary eyes. Nowadays she was stuck to her computers, isolated within the Watchtower. She hardly slept, hardly ate, she was all too focused on the mission. It was a surprise she hadn't burned out before this.

She had saved him—with him kicking and screaming all the way—and despite him owing her everything, she asked so very little of him. So he upgraded her tech every so often. He brought her coffee beans from all over the world whenever he was back from JL or Queen business trips . And he checked in on her from time to time.

It was the least he could do.

She probably knew he was there because of the security system, but she would never say anything about it. And he never brought it into discussion.

It was another secret shared between them.

**_How today sets me down alongside you_**

Chloe waited for Oliver to move back, but he didn't. In fact he leaned closer, his chin propped on the crown of her head. He let out a deep, low sound that made her stomach flutter. "Not bad for your first try, Chloe." He shifted and she could feel his chest brush against her back. "Here, try another one."

When the calluses on his fingers rubbed against the length of her arm, she turned to him and locked her green eyes on his ridiculously handsome face. A hand wrapped around her arm; his thumb brushing the inside of her elbow. He was standing way too close, but he didn't step back. He only cocked an eyebrow at her when she kept staring.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as blunt as ever.

She saw hesitation flicker over his face before a self-deprecating smile curved his lips. "What do you think I'm doing?"

He lifted a hand to touch her blonde curls and smiled wider when she gave him a 'don't play dumb with me' look.

After big bird's reminder had urged him to show more attention to the people around him; and after he had hung out with Chloe and J'onn Jonnz, he had fostered the habit of stopping by the Watchtower every so often more as Oliver Queen rather than Green Arrow. Something about the place—more precisely, something about the owner—soothed him; the smell of coffee, the sharp clacking of her fingers over the keys, Chloe's ability to exist without talking his ears off. He even enjoyed the way she bossed him around; he was on her turf, she said, he might as well do something useful.

She had even stopped asking why he was there all the time and just took his presence for granted. Just last week, she had asked him to stop for groceries if he was on his way to her place.

He was earning his place in her world and he was determined to keep it.

The fingers at her hair slid to her cheeks and her green eyes narrowed. "Oliver."

"I'm sure you know what I'm doing, Chloe."

"I think I have an inkling," she responded dryly. "The question is why, though."

"Why not?"

"We work together."

"So?"

"It's…icky."

He blinked. He never thought he would ever hear her use such a word as icky. "You think sex with me is icky?"

She edged back a little, not as a show of distance but because she was trying to get a better look of his face. "So, you're offering sex. And this is you—what? Seducing me?"

He could hear the incredulity in her voice and he just sighed over the dent on his ego. Trust Chloe. "Not working?"

"Oh, it's working. I just wanted to know why."

Chloe blinked when he flashed that famous smile at her. He was smiling more and she was glad for it but this, uh, turn of events kind of eluded her understanding.

"Why not, Chloe? It would simplify a few matters, wouldn't it? You know everything about me and I know more about you than anybody else. We're both alone. And you need me."

"_I_ need you?"

Oliver flicked a finger against her nose. "Fun, remember?"

A smile finally spread upon her lips. She looked amused all of a sudden. "Sex with you is fun? That isn't what I've heard." She paused; a mischievous smile on her lips, "Or read."

This time it was him who gave her a look. "Have you been toying with gossip sites again?"

Her eyes sparkled, "It's fun reading what others think of you Ollie, and it pays to plant a few suggestions of your whereabouts just in case you need the alibi."

"You take such good care of me." He ran a hand down her back and she relaxed against him. He had noticed that—how she was always so conscientious about people touching her, as if she hadn't been touched a while, isolated as she was. It had taken her forever to get used to his touch. He kept smoothing a hand on her back until he heard her sigh.

"Ollie." His name was a whisper on her lips and it hung over them like a thread of moonlight. He leaned down and touched their foreheads together, his nose nuzzling hers in a gesture that was affectionate and warm. It made her smile and he suddenly wanted to feel the curve of her lips on his.

Her eyes were soft and vulnerable all of sudden. "I don't think it's a good idea."

Her breath misted over his skin; moist and sweet and he felt his stomach jerk. She was so soft and warm and she smelled like coffee, and his cheeks felt hot when her hair tickled them. Then there were her eyes; those big, green eyes. His arms went around her and pulled her closer. "Maybe it isn't." He was surprised by how raspy his voice was, by how fast he went from feeling buzzed by whiskey and the sight of a beautiful woman to overwhelming need. "But now, I can't find it within myself to care."

Stomach twisting, he waited for her to say something, push him away, whatever. They were two adults; they could deal with this without ruining their friendship, even as they worked together.

He sucked in a breath when she touched his jaw with her small fingers, rubbing softly on the dent of his chin. He moved back to see her eyes and he saw awareness in them. He brushed his fingers on her cheek and palmed her cheek gently. She leaned toward his touch and laughed softly.

"Woman, I'm trying to seduce you here. No fair with the laughing," he chided softly which, of course, only made her laugh even more and, honestly, he didn't mind. He liked watching her laugh and she laughed so little these days. "All right, what's with the laugh?"

She shook and dipped her head, giggling into his chest, her hands loosely held his waist. "It's just so surreal, you know."

"What is?"

Finally she looked up, her green eyes still lit from her laughter. "This. You, me; your indecent proposition."

The impish smile on her face delighted him. "Indecent? What's so indecent about two friends sharing pleasure?"

"If that's what you want to call it." She chuckled again.

"Hey," his smile slid away to a more serious expression and his hands made their way up her shoulders to hold her face between them, "Chloe. Let me take care of you."

Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to understand what he meant. "You want to take care of me?"

He leaned closer and brushed his lips to hers—once, twice before lingering softly. "Someone has to."

**_He got the heat and he put it on me,_**

**_Like a spell from the devil, now I just can't beat the heat_**

She could've laughed out loud at the strangeness of this situation if she had any breath to spare, but Oliver was kissing her as if he needed her air to breathe. Skillfully, he had maneuvered them upstairs and had her clothes off before they'd even reached the bedroom. Despite his rush, there'd been no clumsy fumbling or hurried groping. No, Ollie was at his best playboy billionaire, top-notch lover personality. His hands were sure on her; gentle, yet firm. The calluses on his fingers scraped deliciously against her skin. He caught her lips in slow, measured kisses that heated her body up from the inside, showing glimpses of how that mouth would feel on her skin; teasing, cajoling. He was so controlled, so calm. She knew he was as insanely aroused as she was, but the tightly reined desire that tightened his muscles only made her feel all the more hotter for him. Impatiently she claws at his black t-shirt; a deep-throated chuckle climbed out of his throat when she tore it in her haste.

He bit her bottom lip, and then pushed her back on the bed before crawling over her. He took to her lips again. "That was a favorite."

"I'll buy you a new one."

Oliver couldn't remember anyone buying him anything. He snickered and continued running his mouth, tongue and teeth over every inch of her skin. He absorbed her scent and taste; he soaked in her gasps, sighs and moans. Despite her endless energy and big personality, she was still so small and delicate. He found his fingers flickering over her soft, soft skin, fanning the fire between them higher and higher.

Her fingers were on his belt buckle and he bit her neck. "What's your hurry?"

"I want you naked."

He grinned against one of her breasts before lapping a languid tongue over its pink hardened tip. Her fingers fumbled and dug into his shoulders instead. "And you said this wasn't a good idea," he teased.

"It's not." She gasped as he sucked, nipped and nibbled everything he could reach; and he could reach a lot.

"Yeah?" he asked as his tongue flickered on her hipbone, his fingers running all over her breast and ribs. "I think this is one of my most genius ideas."

"It would be genius if it was _my_ idea. You only get as far as brilliant."

He nipped the inside of one thigh and was rewarded with a soft, helpless sound that knotted his stomach. "Yeah? How about that?"

Chloe figured she had stopped breathing but, damn, the man's tongue was _so_ very talented. "Inspired, I guess, but, that's about it."

A warm, big hand pressed against her stomach to keep her in place, but when Chloe looked down she could see Oliver's eyes glittering with desire and amusement. Between her thighs; the one place she never thought she'd see them, or him for that matter.

She waited for that knowledge to weird her out, but he took that moment to dive in. She could hardly breathe let alone think. Her stomach coiled and tensed, her toes curled, her thighs trembled and sensations layered and built and built and built until—

She was still shaking when he hovered over her with a satisfied smirk on his wet lips. He ran a finger down the curve of her nose, "How about that?"

She may have just experienced the most amazing orgasm she'd ever had, but it would take more than that to take away her wit. "Oh," her voice wavered but she managed the offhand tone that she intended; she was even able to lift a hand to wave dismissively at him. "It was good enough."

When he kissed her this time, his chest rumbled with laughter against hers.

_Okay,_ Chloe thought as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, _Fun, right? I can handle fun._


	2. Chapter 2

**John Mayer-Edge of Desire**

**_"Don't say a word just come over and lie here with me cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see"_**

"Ollie?" Chloe stepped into the darkness of his penthouse. She squinted and searched for him, "Ollie?"

"Here," his low even tone sounded from her left, and only by a glint of the glass he was holding did she spot him. She pursed her lips as she watched him pour himself a drink and he smiled wearily at her. "Don't worry. I won't fall off the wagon. This will be my second and final glass."

She sat on the armrest of his chair and watched Metropolis glitter outside through the wide open windows. "It was worse than what I'd heard on the coms, wasn't it?" she asked quietly into the shadows. Ice clinked sharply against his crystal glass as he waved it in the air.

"There were kids, Chloe; children." The words burst out of him as if he couldn't contain it anymore, "Children." A shaking hand rubbed hard at his eyes, as if he could erase every horrifying image he'd seen on his last mission. "Sometimes, I—"

She laid a hand gently on top of his head, her fingers weaving inside his frayed blond locks. "What?"

"Sometimes I think that humans are much worse than metahumans or anyone who has superpowers. It's like they have to compensate for their lack of power. They're just meaner, crueler; more psychotic, somehow. How can someone just—? " he paused and swallowed hard. "Children, Chloe. Some of them were hardly more than five."

"I just—sometimes I think that what we're doing—I don't know." Sighing heavily, Oliver moved his head back and closed his eyes, taking comfort from her fingers in his hair. Those fingers drifted down to turn his head and he opened his eyes to see her luminous green ones. "What we do — what you do — helps."

He tried to give her a smile but she pressed on.

"Cynthia Steker. Do you remember her?"

"No."

"Red head, blue eyes… You saved her from a mugger last week." Chloe smiled when his eyes lit up with recognition.

This time, the smile wasn't forced. "Not that I had to, she was doing fine on her own. She had a mean right hook."

"He had a gun, Ollie. He would've killed her, and all for a few dollars in her purse. But you helped her so she got to walk away with her life."

He shrugged.

"You know where she was walking to? She was going to meet her boyfriend; she was about to tell him she was pregnant and that she was keeping the baby."

Oliver's mouth dropped open; his eyes darkened with all the 'what if' scenarios running around his head.

Chloe grinned, "And her boyfriend had planned an elaborate proposal for her that very night, right at the restaurant they promised to meet in." She raised a hand between their faces, waving something. "Do you see this?"

He peered at the little triangle, and tried to read the inscription on it. When he did he choked on his whiskey. It was a bumper sticker which said—in green bold letters—Honk if you've been saved by Green Arrow .

"Did you do this?"

She shook her head. "Oh, you can't blame this one on me. I only picked it up from a newspaper vendor. There are variations, of course." She sneaked him a glance, "Your stickers are running nose to nose with The Blur's—"

Amusement started to spear into his dark musings. "Oh, is it?"

"Today alone, I saw like hundreds of these on the back of car windows and bumpers. I had a hard time keeping a straight face."

He smiled, "I bet."

She stroked his cheek, and slid her fingers along the sharp stubble that riddled his chin. "What you do matters, Ollie. It matters to every life you save and to their families."

He looked at her; just looked at her. At those amazing eyes that stared steadily into his. "Where did this faith in me come from?" he teased.

Her eyes brightened but her voice was solemn when she answered, "From your every cut and bruise."

Gratitude, affection and several variations of those two emotions rippled inside him and caught in his throat. He wanted to say something; he wanted to tell her how much he was grateful that she was at his side, but he couldn't find the words.

Oliver Queen — playboy billionaire, executive mogul — was defenseless when it came to Chloe Sullivan.

He circled an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, her body fitting perfectly against his.

**NeedtoBreath-I Won't Look Back**

**_"Love, love isn't always love, the way that we need. Just like you are. right now, is all, all that I need."_**

Sometime in the night, her hair had flopped all over his face. It tickled, but the scent had become so familiar that it comforted him, eased him. Everything about her had become familiar: the way she haphazardly laid out on the bed; the way she sometimes twitched and murmured in her sleep; the smell of her sheets; the smell of her skin; and, most especially, the warmth of her body against him.

There was a smile on his face when he opened his eyes, and he tried to think of the last time he had ever done that. He reached out to smooth her hair away from both of their faces. Her own contented smile peeked out from behind a few stray locks as she opened those beautiful eyes.

"Hi," she murmured against his shoulder, then pressed a kiss upon his skin. He tilted his head to kiss her mouth, wondering when he had become accustomed to waking up beside her.

**Kleerup with Lykke Li-Until We Bleed**

**_We drink the fatal drop then love until we bleed then fall apart in parts_**

"You could've just asked, Chloe. Why do you think I wouldn't have given you the money?"

She didn't answer him; instead she toyed with her dinner. They finally had time for themselves and he had wanted to… He didn't really know what he wanted to do. But he knew he wanted the tension between them gone and he figured they could just toughed it out, but—

He understood why she did it; why she felt the need to hold her cards close to her chest. Each had their own problem with control, but he didn't understand why she had to hide it from him. It's not like he would disapprove.

As long as she gave him a logical excuse, laid out her plan, he would've supported her. Just as he had tried to show her when they had gone to see what she'd been hiding .

"I just didn't want to give you a chance to veto me."

"Why?"

She flicked him a confused look.

"Why did you think I would veto your plan?"

Her eyes flickered away from him, "I don't know."

"And now you're lying to me," he eased his grip on the wine glass, afraid that he would shatter it into a million pieces.

"Plausible deniability, Ollie. I wanted to give you that."

"And why the hell would I want that?"

"Because you're Green Arrow."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because what I'm doing will have serious repercussions, Ollie. What if the Kandorians find out about my stash? What if Clark finds out about it?"

Oliver stared. "So you didn't tell me about your end-of-the-world-insurance because you don't want me to sully my hands and worry my pretty little head?"

She winced, and gulped her wine as if it was water. "Well, when you say it like that…" s he trailed off, put her wine glass down and played with her fork.

"Just admit it. You didn't tell me because you didn't trust me."

Her eyes lifted to meet his and stayed. "Do you tell me all of your secrets?"

"Of course not."

She nodded and didn't even show a flash of disgruntlement or betrayal. It seemed as if she had expected that kind of answer. He didn't know why that grated his nerves.

"T hen why should I?"

"Because it was my money."

She looked vexed for a moment, "Point. But—"

"No, there are no more buts or ifs. We're in this together. You have to learn to trust me. No more going behind my back because people—and by people I mean Tess—would take any advantage they could have to play us against each other." He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. Soon, part of the anger, the hurt, and betrayal that had churned inside him, settled. "Even in a ravaged future we fought side by side, Chloe, and that's how it should be."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she bit her bottom lip to keep it at bay. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't help grinning at the glimpse of the girl he had met at the Kent barn, the one who had a bounce in her step and sunshine in her smile. That girl had grown up into a strong, confident woman with a chip on her shoulder the size of a planet. "That killed you, didn't it?"

She choked something out that sounded out like a laugh and a sob, "Yeah. I'm not used to apologizing for my actions anymore." A shadow passed over her face. "That doesn't sound good, does it?"

He lifted her hand to his lips, "I'll keep you honest."

A grin flirted with her mouth. "Won't that be a novelty?"

**Paramore-The Only Exception**

**_But darling, you are, the only exception_**

Chloe lifted her head from the computer and watched Oliver notching another arrow to his bow. A small smile appeared on her lips when he didn't even check where his arrow landed. Some might call it arrogance, but Chloe knew that it was confidence over a skill that he didn't just use daily, but had counted on to save his life and others' time and time again.

She watched his arm pull back. As always, she sensed a definite calm inside him whenever he held a bow and arrow. Even when bullets flew over his head, his eyes would be focused, his hands—his heartbeat—would be steady.

She wondered what would happen if she pushed a bow into his hand whenever he yelled at her. Would it stop him? Would it calm him down?

"And what is so amusing?" the low jaunty tone of his voice told her that he was also smiling. This was probably due to the stupid amused grin on her face. It struck her that it was nice to have somebody smile because he saw that you were smiling. It was—it was sweet and normal.

"Nothing," she returned to her computer, even though she was still deep in thought.

How was it that her relationship with Oliver had become the most normal thing in her life? And it was normal: they went to the movies, to dinner; sometimes she even accompanied him to one of his gala events. They would sit around the watchtower, just talking as they worked on some last detail kinks. They curled up on the sofa watching TV and fed each other take-out. They even went grocery shopping together.

And she could talk to him. She didn't have to hide things from him; didn't have to cull out information, or edit the nasty stuff she was thinking. She didn't have to filter her emotions when she was with him, like she had done over and over again with everyone else in her life.

With her father, she always had to be strong; to act as if her mother's absence didn't matter to her. He'd already had a tough time; he didn't need to worry about her too.

With Clark, she had to detail out several things to protect him; she had to gloss over her clashes with the Luthors, her fear, her anger, her heartbreak and her once so desperate love for him. Clark might be the man of steel, but in some ways he was so delicate, so easy to hurt.

With Lois, well… Chloe couldn't count how many secrets she had to keep from her. Even though Chloe loved her like a sister, Lois tired her. Lois was the type of person who you loved from a distance, because having them around tires you out. Plus she was far too inquisitive for her own good.

But, Oliver? He got her. He understood everything about her, including that part of her that was cold and angry, and could justify anything for the safety of the people she loved. That part she hid from everybody, especially Clark, because Clark was, well, Clark.

Just look at how he had treated Oliver over the whole Davis fiasco. Sometimes Chloe had nightmares where Clark found out what she had done to Sebastian Kane.

Oliver understood her. He knew that even if her methods were faulty, her heart was in the right place. And he never pretended to be a hero. He admitted when he was in the wrong, that he could be a jerk at times. He was just so beautifully flawed.

They were beautifully flawed. They would fight like wild dogs then they would apologize. They rarely said the words, but there would always be something— little, thoughtful things they would do for one another in lieu of actually saying the appropriate words. Things like: a newly made pot of coffee; her favorite pint of ice cream in the freezer; a dozen or so new arrows; his favorite bottle of wine. Once he had bought her a toothbrush to replace the one she had mildly complained about. In return, she bought him a new shaver. Stupid, little things that made them smile.

"Okay," his voice shook her out of reverie. "You're starting to creep me out."

Chloe snickered, "I was just thinking."

He looked at her from over his shoulder; his brown eyes brimming with amusement. 'That doesn't really explain anything, Chloe. You're always thinking."

She rolled her eyes and then sent him an impish grin. "I was thinking about how you're probably the most normal relationship I've ever had."

He paused, mid-pull of the arrow, and shot her a look. "Huh?"

"Just think about it." She grinned and closed her laptop, warming up to the subject. "You're not a meteor freak. You've never tried to kill me. You don't plot behind my back. You're not an alien. You already know more about me than anybody I know. We're lovers and, well, you're my best friend." She counted the fingers that she held out to prove her point and raised an eyebrow at him.

He gave a thoughtful expression, lips curving up at the corners. "Huh. When you put it like that, I am the most normal relationship you've had," he grinned. "God help us." Oliver watched her face become solemn. He turned around fully to face her. "I'm not going to leave, Chloe. I won't bail on you again."

She blinked and lifted a hand to her hair, as if she was embarrassed. "I wasn't—"

"No lies, remember? I mean it. The only way that I won't be by your side is if _you_ leave me."

Her eyes glinted beneath the soft lights. "I won't leave you, either."

He traced his fingertips on the curve of her cheek. "C'mon."

Chloe looked at him inquisitively.

"How long has it been since you last shot an arrow or two? You need to practice if you want to be any good at it."

"Keeping up with your standards in archery is suicide." She huffed, but stood anyway. She held out her hand for the smaller, customized compound bow—the one he had made for her after one of their fights—and assumed the position.

A smiled quirked upon her lips when he slid behind her; his hands creeping up hers in an amazing repetition of what he had done months ago. Her smile grew wider when he simply curved his body against hers.

"Uh, Ollie?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

She felt his cheek move against hers as his mouth formed a smile. "What do you think I'm doing?"

The playful tone of his voice made her chuckle. "You want to live out old memories?"

"_Old_ memories?"

"Well, it has been eight months."

"I know."

His quiet tone and the way his hands circled her waist made her lower the bow. She turned her face towards him .

He had a very uncharacteristic, bemused expression on his face.

"What's wrong?"

Still deep in thought, he tilted his head, even as his arms tightened on her waist.

"Ollie? You're starting to creep me out,"

He chuckled and pressed a kiss on her temple, "Eight months, huh?"

"Give or take."

"This is actually the longest relationship I've had with a woman."

Chloe stared at him. "As opposed to your relationship with men?" She snickered when he sent her a dark look. "Should I be insulted that you're looking so constipated with that realization?"

He nipped her ear and she elbowed his stomach.

"It's just—it just hit me, I guess."

"Hm. Kind of like my epiphany that you're the most normal man in my life?"

He laughed at that. "Me? Normal? Yeah, this is weird, yet not. Does that make sense?"

"Actually, it does."

Chloe met his gaze and giggled just as he started to chuckle. All of a sudden they were holding each other up because they were laughing so long and hard.

**Rosi Golan feat William Fitzsimmons-Hazy**

**_If I forgot who I am will you please remind me? Cause without you things go hazy."_**

Chloe watched as Oliver cleaned his gear with such concentrated effort that bordered on obsession. His expression dark and forbidding, he wiped each and one of his bows meticulously before checking and rechecking his bow.

The mission had gone badly. Disastrous wasn't even close to describing it. He had escaped more or less in one piece but it had done something to him.

Chloe took the seat beside him and push a steaming mug toward him.

He looked at the cup, actually more like squinting in suspicion at it. "Hot chocolate?"

"With marshmallows."

His brown eyes lifted to hers, the glow inside them made her hopeful. All was not lost after all. Oliver was so hard on himself, sometimes it was as if everything he had done so far wasn't enough. He was always pushing himself to be faster, stronger, stretching himself thin. As if living a double life of being a billionaire playboy by day and hooded crusader by night wasn't enough for three lifetimes. It didn't help that he was surrounded by people with super powers.

"Hot chocolate, really?" His expression turned crestfallen. "Did you run out of coffee?"

Great, he'll probably blame himself for that, too. "No, I just think that you shouldn't be drinking coffee tonight. You need your rest."

A weary smile lifted his lips. "I look that bad?"

"Yes."

He chuckled but picked up the mug and wrapped his palms around the mug as if he needed them to warm his hands.

"Thanks."

Chloe waited.

"You would have been a reporter."

She blinked. "What?"

His eyes remained on the floating marshmallows. "If you hadn't found out about Clark, if you just live like normal people, you probably would have been a reporter, right?"

She tried to guess where this conversation was going but couldn't. "In this alternate universe would there still be meteors involved?"

He thought about it. "No."

"Then yes, I probably would be."

"You'd be married, have kids. Dogs. A white picket fence."

"I prefer a tasteful yet delicate black iron lattice."

"I'm serious."

"I know." She tilted her head in question. "And yeah, I probably would have all of those things."

A small smile lifted the corners of his sleep as some kind of emotion slid behind his eyes and she wanted desperately to throw her arms around him. But, she didn't. She knew him better than that.

"What do you think Clark would be?"

She drank her own hot chocolate as she imagined. "Probably what he is now; a mild mannered reporter."

Oliver smiled. "Married to Lois."

She chuckled. "Married to Lois."

His brow wrinkled. "Do you think their kid would have superpowers?"

Her mug stopped inches before her mouth. "Lois as a mother to a superkid."

Both of them fought off a shudder. They continued on that tone for a bit more, spinning off stories about the alternate lives of their friends.

"What about you?" Chloe asked, still smiling over their speculation about how Bart would be without his powers. "If you hadn't gotten stranded in the island what would you be now?"

The left corner of his lips tipped up. "You mean other than being Oliver Queen?"

Her brows wrinkled as she heard the subtle note of mockery in his voice. She knew that Oliver Queen was not merely his name, it was pretty much a title just like The Billionaire Playboy. Oliver Queen was more of a franchise rather than a name. "Yeah."

His fingers tapped against the sides of the cup. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

He shrugged. "I—If you met me before I got out of that island, you would've hated my guts."

"I would?"

"Yeah, you would. I was—I was different."

"If you met me in my alternate life you probably wouldn't have liked me either."

"Yes, I would." He answered quickly, looking at her with the first genuine smile on his face. "I wouldn't have known what to do with you or what to make of you but I would have liked you."

Chloe stared at the angles and lines of his face, at the bruise on one cheekbone, the cut on his lip and tried to imagine a different him. "I think I would've liked you, too." She said softly but he snorted in disbelief.

"No, you wouldn't. I was—I was angry. Spiteful. Like I have a grudge against the world and everything in it."

"And you're sweetness and light now?"

He shot her a dirty look. "You know what I mean." He sipped his hot chocolate. "I guess I would just be Oliver Queen, the somewhat good enough CEO and playboy billionaire extraordinaire."

She watched the sneer that decorated his face and sighed inwardly. "I don't think so, Ollie."

He merely snorted and she raised a challenging eyebrow. "Even without Green Arrow you would've tried to do whatever you could to make the world better."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Do you really think I didn't gathered whatever information I could about you when you started to date Lois and hang around with Clark?"

He stared at her, blinked then laughed softly. "I did wonder."

"You doled out great gobs of money to charities and shelters and lost kids even before you got stuck on an island."

"Taxes."

"Bull." She grasped his hand, held it between hers. "You help people, Oliver, You help change their lives."

"Don't paint me as a saint, Chloe. I have my selfish reasons for those charities."

"Oh?"

"They're for orphans." He muttered quietly. "I'm an orphan. It's for my own peace of mind."

"Ollie." Chloe burst out in exasperation. "If only more people are as 'selfish' as you, the world might be a better place. You're an orphan, they're orphans, so you empathized with them. How is that a bad thing?"

"I just don't want you to think that I did it out of the goodness of my heart, that's all."

She threw her hands up in the air, a sure sign of her frustration. "Sure, whatever. You and Clark should get together and have a 'my bad' fest, I don't care. Both of you should take turns on whose fault it was when somebody so much as get a paper cut." She stuck a finger in his face. "But, I'm warning you, you are not allowed to insult the Oliver Queen I know in my presence, do you understand?"

A small smile crept up his face. "Why?"

"Because if he's such a martyr whiny bitch it would make my status way below loser by association and I refuse to be that person." She aimed him with a sharp glance. "Do you understand?"

He grinned. "No maligning of The Oliver Queen label. Check."

Chloe reached for his hands again and looked straight into his eyes. "The Oliver Queen I know is not so bad. He's flawed, he makes mistakes and he can be kind of a jerk." She smiled softly. "But he can be so loyal, so giving, so _exasperatingly_ noble. Ollie, without Green Arrow you would've found another way to save the world. I'm sure of it."

His lips barely moved and when he spoke, his voice trembled. "How?"

"Because," She started in a matter-of-fact yet serious tone, "the hero lies within the man. Not the myth."

She could see the second her words sunk into his mind, saw the brightness of hope, the flame of confidence and something else, something she had seen for a while and in seeing it, felt something inside her reaching out in answer. He snaked his hands around her and pulled her—his one true constant—into a tight embrace, as emotions stormed inside him.

He sat there and held her. And she held him back.

And it was enough to keep his demons away.


End file.
